There is a musical called Stop The World I Want To Get Off.
It’s no Sound Of Music largely because the title is too long I suspect.
Things with long titles don’t do as well as their short-named cousins I wager.
Consider The Curious Case of Benjamin Button.
That should have done a lot better given who was starring in it.
Or Homework, or How Pornography Saved the Split Family from Boredom and Improved their Financial Situation, which didn’t do well at all and I think we all know why.
Seriously. That’s the name of a movie.
Or this book - An Arsonist’s Guide to Writers’ Homes in New England, which I haven’t read (and I doubt many have) but I do like the title.
What about For Colored Girls Who’ve Considered Suicide When the Rainbow is Enough.
It’s a play but unlikely to be done in Australia too often I’d say.
Then again there is that musical The 25th Annual Putnam County Spelling Bee which won a bunch of awards at the Tonys a few years ago thereby debunking my theory entirely.
The point I was really trying to make is that I don’t want to be like the musical and get off the world, but I do want the world to stop so I can catch up on all the things I keep trying and failing to do.
Jeez it’s annoying, my list. I mean it’s so satisfying to cross something off, but that’s been a little tricky of late.
My husband doesn’t always embrace ‘the list’ but when he does he really goes for it. He gets out the pen and paper, rolls up his sleeves, sits down at the table and starts writing
· get up
· make coffee
· start laundry
· clean teeth
and so it goes, interspersing actual chores with things one (I) might argue are daily incidentals. Necessities of life if you will.
But he’s onto something you know, because every time he writes a list he (unlike me) manages to finish it. And he’s so satisfied and smug and then he struts about the place refusing to do anything else for the rest of the day because he’s managed to make coffee and clean his teeth.
This morning my list started with
· take car in for rego
but Miss Q was finding life tough today and I completely, utterly and totally forgot until I looked in my diary at 4.45pm this afternoon.
And so I’ll add it to Thursday’s list where I’ll incorporate it with a trip to the airport thereby consolidating bullet points, which in the list game is really quite impressive and would earn me a fair bit of kudos amongst my fellow list-doers.
The problem with my lists at the moment however, is that after a few bullet points particular to that day, the next point is this: SEE YESTERDAYS LIST.
So far I’m going back at least ten days before I’m in the clear.
And that doesn’t include my GRAND LIST, which holds the points saved for days rainier than last week’s effort.
That’s the super serious list.
The one reserved for things like
· consolidate superannuation
· do wedding album
· make an alphabet poster for Q (that point is going to sit there for a year or so at least given that’s she’s currently only 8 months old)
Dunno what might prompt me to do that list. A monsoon maybe.
A list can work two ways.
If you manage to get through it all, it can be more gratifying than a whinge-free-baby day, a real victory over the world, a universe-butt-kicking moment if you will.
But if – like today – you consider getting out of your long-johns to go up to the pharmacy a triumph (despite the fact that I had to do it with Q permanently glued to me because she’s developed this anxiety that even though we’re together 29 hours a day, I might for a second leave her) getting to ‘the list’ can be an absolute impossibility.
Maybe my husband is onto something. I need to make my goals attainable. Things I know I can actually achieve. I shall review his list now.
Thing is, some days Gregory’s first point is about the only one I can manage.
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